He didn’t see any other farm boys in jeans and John Deere T-shirts walking around, but nobody seemed to care. One of the security guards even gave him an encouraging nod as he walked from room to room.
Chuck had stood in front of a big red painting for a long time. It was the kind of thing that Gram and Pop would have mocked as “modern art.” They’d seen something like it on TV once, and Pop had scoffed, “Did some kindergartener make that?” But Chuck felt like he was falling into the color, it was so intense. And he, Chuck Lawson, who never understood anything at school, understood that painting.
“Like it?” a voice said.
For the first time, Chuck noticed a man standing beside him. He had a goatee and a ponytail. Pop would have scoffed at him, too. Chuck was afraid the man was making fun of him—as if someone with a ponytail could never see someone like Chuck liking a painting like that. But the man looked serious.
“Yes,” Chuck said simply.
“Good,” the man said.
And that was all, but it was the best conversation Chuck had had in years.
Mom had more to do in Atlanta than she had in Chicago.
“I’m busy until four o’clock today, and then there’s the banquet this evening,” she said over breakfast. (They were eating at McDonald’s. Did that mean something?) “Will you two be okay on your own?”
“Sure,” Lori said.
“Oh, yeah,” Chuck said.
Was it just Lori’s imagination, or did he sound enthusiastic? Chuck never sounded enthusiastic about anything.
“Well, try to stick together,” Mom said, almost nervously, wiping the remains of an Egg McMuffin from her lips with a napkin. “This is a big city, you know.”
“We know,” Lori said, too sharply. Mom gave her a look but didn’t say anything. Lori instantly wanted to apologize. That was silly, though—why should she apologize for saying, “We know”?
Lori wondered if Mom didn’t really have that much more to do in Atlanta. Maybe she was just tired of hanging out with Lori and Chuck.
Lori wouldn’t blame her.
But Mom had explained that this was a convention of people who gave speeches; Mom was here to talk about how to speak in public. Lori had seen the brochure herself—Mom was leading seminars called “Why Should Anyone Listen to Me? Figuring Out Your Message” and “It’s Mine, All Mine: Capturing an Audience’s Attention.” And she was giving the keynote address at the banquet that night. So Mom wasn’t lying when she said she’d be busy.
Lori should probably be impressed that all these people who gave speeches would want to listen to Mom. But she couldn’t help wondering, Why did Mom bring us along if she’s just going to work?
They went back to the hotel room and Mom left for the conference. Lori brushed her teeth. The whole day stretched ahead of her like an empty calendar page.
“Want to go to the Coke museum with me?” she asked Chuck through a mouthful of bubbles. She spit in the sink. “The hotel guidebook says Coke was invented here, and they have a museum showing the entire history. At the end, they let you drink all the Coke you want.”
She felt so virtuous asking Chuck to go somewhere with her. Maybe that was how she could make up for being so nasty to Mom. She’d be nice to Chuck all day long—no matter how hard that was. She wouldn’t even think about the possibility that someone might mistake them for girlfriend and boyfriend. (Okay, she’d already thought of it. But she wouldn’t think about it again.) It’d be like . . . paying back God. By the end of the day, her conscience would feel as clean as her teeth.
But, “No,” Chuck said slowly. “I’ve got other plans.”
Plans? Chuck had plans? In a city he’d never stepped foot in before in his entire life?
“Oh,” Lori said. “Um. Okay.” She hesitated. Her conscience was at stake here, after all. “But didn’t Mom want us to stay together? Can I—?” She was out on a limb now. But she kept going. “Can I go with you?”
She was almost pleading. Chuck looked panicked.
“No, no. You’d be bored. Or something.” He gulped. “And Mom didn’t say we had to stay together.”
Lori’s pride prevented her from truly begging. She was practically speechless, anyway. What could Chuck be up to?
“Well,” Chuck said. “Guess I’ll be going. See you later.”
“Yeah,” Lori said.
He tucked his plastic credit card-like hotel key in his pocket and went out the door. Lori stared after him. The door shut in her face.
“Okay. Fine,” Lori said.
She grabbed her own key and went out the door behind him.